Updates. Because that's all I've got.

Yes, I am a bad blogger--sorry! I blame work. I mean, I gotta blame someone, this can't possibly be my fault. Or can it? Hm. Something to ponder.

1. I took off a week after Cowtown, which was dumb, and now I'm faced with 18 miles on Saturday. HA! That is a funny, funny story. My hip begs to differ, as does the fact that I'm hosting a baby shower at my house, sooooo, I'll be cutting the run short so I can zip home and make myself pretty before the guests arrive. See also: Why do I do the things I do? It's a mystery folks.

2. Last year, I was getting ready to run the Catalina Marathon. I'm more than a bit pissy that I'm not doing that this weekend. It was so.much.FUN!

3. I'm also more than a bit pissy that I might have to work an event in New Jersey instead of you know, watch the royal wedding and such and also miss out on running the Oklahoma City Marathon. Priorities people, priorities.

4. I shouldn't be so bitter and pissy. Our receptionist bought us caffeine free Diet Coke. Obviously, there's a correlation.

5. My home decor projects are coming together! Hopefully they'll be finished by the time this girl comes to visit me in April. Otherwise, I apologize in advance and I'll pay for your room at the Hilton.

6. It's a really nice day here today. I should be eating chips and queso on a restaurant patio or something. I'm not, obviously.

7. I haven't cooked an actual meal in like a week. Again, I blame work.

8. I had lunch with this sweet mama to be yesterday. It took everything I had not to slap her for being so dang cute. I have no babies and am going gray. She on the other hand, is pregnant and looks younger. I'm gonna need to know her secret....

9. I fully intend an Anthro shopping spree this weekend. I have a sore throat, that will help right? Like vitamin C for the soul?

10. My niece has gone to like 500 doctors in the past month--poor girl, they can't figure out what's wrong with her. My sister is about to lose her mind. I wish I lived closer!

11. It's almost Spring!

12. It's almost Friday!

What's new with you?

xoxo,
SP

Thank you Universe, you win. Again.

This isn't me fishing for compliments and telling me I'm really not old (although, if you feel inclined, go right ahead, I won't stop you)--this is me just being honest.

We all know I do not handle getting older very well, and it's not that I think I'm necessarily "old" (although the kid who thought I was 43 yesterday was lucky I didn't smack him. Note: I am NOT even close to 43), it's just that I thought I'd have accomplished more by the time I reached my current age, blah, blah, it's depressing, blah, blah.

So, I'mma be real with y'all here. I'm too freaking young to be going gray! Not fair.

Now, I know y'all are going to be like "Aww, SP, you aren't going gray." But, you're wrong! I totally am and the only reason you don't know this is because of a lovely thing called permanent dye. I have to color my hair like nobody's business these days. And of course my sisters love to remind me of this. (Rebecca, we're way too young for this nonsense!)

This is totally the universe going in for the win. I mean, we know when I beg to look younger, my skin freaks out and I get acne like I'm 16 again.

I'm not entirely sure what the Universe is trying to tell me with this one, but, my fingers are crossed that my prayers to be blonde are being answered in a backwards way--since my mom's family all goes "platinum" as opposed to "gray". Perhaps I'll actually go platinum blonde?

Growing up certainly isn't for sissies.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make an appointment with my hairstylist.

Get Busy Living, Or Get Busy Dying

I won't bore you with my "resolutions" (because, let's be honest, have I ever kept one? Nope), but, I will dive into what I like to call 2011: The Year of Awesome. Or something like that.

The last two years my life has been consumed with marathon training--now, don't get me wrong, it's the love of my life, running marathons. I love it. Does that make me kind of sick and sadistic? Yeah, probably. Whatevs. But, with marathon training comes putting my life on hold. Going to bed early all the damn time. Missing out on girls brunches and sleeping in.

There were a few times this past fall where I skipped out on a run because I went shopping with my best friend, or I stayed up too late watching movies and eating pizza with two of my nearest and dearest--I didn't let myself feel guilty for it and it was awesome. You only live once, right?

So, this year, I'm adopting a run less, work out more tactic. This may even get me on a bike--who knows! Maybe I'll try Pure Barre and get my dancers body back (hey, a girl can dream). Don't worry, I'm still marathoning--I've got an ultra in like 6 weeks. GULP.

I'm going to attempt to Be Me in every possible way. If that means saving up for a new gorgeous handbag because damnit I want it? I will. If that means staying up way too late watching movies and laughing with friends and family? I will. If that means finally admitting that I can't pull off black eyeliner? Done.

2010 was hard. Our family dealt with a lot. Things might not always be rosy, but, we're gonna make it. We're gonna live. 2011: The Year Of Awesome.

It's my life. It's my year. I'm going to live it.

First up? A trip to St. Louis to laugh, eat, drink and shop with my favorite sheltie mama.

Then? My parents come to visit me in Dallas--that never happens!

Next? A work trip to Miami! Miami, folks!

Looks like I'm off to a good start.

It's time to "get busy living, or get busy dying". Time for this redhead to really live!

I admit it: I'm old

You ever have that moment where you realize that you aren't as young as you think you are? Yeah, I had that moment over the weekend.

My sister and I were taking her girls (my nieces) after Christmas shopping and hitting up all the sales. My younger niece had gift cards and cash to burn so we hit up her favorite store, Abercrombie & Fitch, which, usually, we let her roam around and then my sis and I hit up Pottery Barn next door. But, we wanted my older niece to find something and since she hates shopping, (she looks just like her dad, otherwise I'd swear she was mixed up at the hospital and cannot be ours) we went in.

And remember how when you were in college Abercrombie was so cool? And you LOVED those bags with half nekkid men on them? And you felt so awesome and stylish? Yeah. I? Did not. My sister and I were giggling at the posters in the store and questioning who on earth could fit into a size 00 and who had a bum small enough to fit into some of those shorts.

And that's when I realized that I'm not that young and cool and hip anymore. Hmph.

Until my niece convinced me that I wasn't that old and lame that I really should try on a pair of jeans just to see.

Now, I have a pair of Abercrombie jeans from my college days that still fit (read: have stretched out so much that they still fit) and have holes all over them but I cannot part with them because damnit they fit me when I was 19 and that makes me feel OK about myself.

So, in some measure of desperation, I grabbed a pair to attempt to prove I was still cool, and lo and behold. THEY FIT.

Take that Abercrombie and your half nekkid 19 year olds. I can still fit into a pair of your jeans.
(Madison Flare) Which I obviously purchased in 5 seconds flat because they were 40% off.

And then a sweater because I might still be able to wear Abercrombie jeans but I'm on the downhill slope to 30 and need my sweaters and glasses. My sister bought the exact same sweater. We have a sickness.

(Drew Sweater)
So, even though I might be embarrassed by the store in general but gosh darn it, I can still pull of the jeans I wore when I was 19 then I think I'm still pretty cool.

(and if I can't pull off this particular look, no one needs to tell me, ok? Ignorance is bliss. And my niece approved, and she's cool, so, I go with what she says, duh)

I didn't run a half marathon yesterday

Which, admittedly, is totally lame. Because I really, really, REALLY wanted to. And I looooove DRC races. DRC are my peeps, ya know (how lame did I just sound?).

Anyways.

I picked up my packet, charged my Garmin, iced the knee, went to bed early and was excited to go.

In the back of my mind, I was really nervous. Since doing whatever I did at MCM last weekend, walking has been hard. I've been stretching, icing, foam rolling, everything, but, it still hurts. I wasn't sure about running the race, as I was scared I might do major damage.

I convinced myself it would be fine, and I could do it.

I convinced myself of this by eating large amounts of pasta and french fries, followed by a PowerAde and several hours of icing my knee and watching Sons of Anarchy. Because Charlie Hunnam cures all that ails you.

Only not really.

Went to bed early, alarm set early. Ready to go.

Except not. I woke up in the middle of the night in pain and tried to get comfy. My alarm went off, I got up and stumbled out of bed. The pain was excruciating. I felt like I was going to puke from the pain.

I tried to "jog it off" by running around my house in my jammies (awesome) and then foam rolling some more. When I could hardly walk, I called it a day. I texted the husband and told him I was bowing out. I'm such a grown up.

I felt all sorts of guilty because I made a deal with Sam that I would totally own my race. And then I didn't.

And since my dogs don't understand FALL BACK we were wide awake at 6:45 AM. So, I sat on the sofa, icing my knee, eating cookies (shut up) and watching TV.

Until my BFF called and offered up a lunch date. Yes please.

So. I didn't run a half marathon. But, I spent a fantastic day with my BFF and turns out, my knee still hurts. I can't imagine what I might have done to it, had I ran yesterday.

Look at how mature I am--seriously!

This just means I'll have to suck it up and run the White Rock Half in December. Whew. I can totally do that, right?

Freaking out, freaking out, freaking out

Y'all.

Y'ALL.

Marine Corp Marathon is less than three weeks away.

Excuse me while I go pass out from a panic attack.

Be back soon.

....................
...........
......
....
..

OK. I'm back. Still freaking out and all, but, back.

When did this happen? How is it October? How am I less than THREE WEEKS AWAY from marathon number five?

::crawls into fetal position and rocks self::

I demand that time stop now. NOW. Stop it! Stop! Also, if time stops, does that mean my wrinkles reverse? Cause that would be awesome.

Goodness. I am so overworked and undertrained that I'm sure marathon number five will be a fiery disaster. But, I rocked out a good solid 15 miles yesterday and have 22 on tap for next weekend (I just gagged), so, I CAN DO THIS. Right?

What can you do that you never thought was possible?

Excuse me while I panic

Have we discussed that I'm running a marathon tomorrow? Because I am. Tomorrow. Not on Sunday. Tomorrow. As in, in 24 hours, I'll be like half way into 26.2 miles.

And the panic is totally setting in.

I haven't really been eating enough carbs (gummi bears? Yes)--what if I don't have enough in the tank? What if I get really hungry at mile 9 (like I'm prone to do). What if Mystery Illness 2010 hits at mile 19? Then what?! What if I wear a tee and capris and it's too cold? What if I wear capris and a long sleeve half zip and it's too hot? What if we don't get there in time?

Full.on.panic.attack.

(I've had like 3 this week--awesome)

And it doesn't help that the headband I ordered for this marathon hasn't come yet. That's just bad juju. (which also means I'm buying one today on my lunch break. Yes, I have 50. But, I don't have one with yellow on it, and if it's warm tomorrow, I'm wearin' yellow! If it's cold, I'm wearing pink--I've got pink totally taken care of)

But! But! But! I feel excited, I feel anxious, I feel jumpy and I feel like I can tackle the world tomorrow. In the form of running 26.2 miles of course.

And, I will not have a mental breakdown at mile 17. I will not. (mile 20, maybe)

Ahh! I can't believe it.

I've slipped up and told a few people at work, but, hopefully they'll forget (doubtful).

I'm just so damn excited. Even though the finishers medals are weak (yeah, they're part of a 5 year series--in 5 years, you get a big ol' 5 point star medal thing. Really? 5 years? That's asking a lot of me. Can I just get the big 5 point star now? K, thanks).

Bonus? Tonight is graduation (yes, I get to graduate from a 21 certificate training--shut up).

I think it shall be an awesome weekend.

PS. Good luck to Sam and The Redhead who are going to rock their marathon (and Sam will rock his first 15k!) this weekend too!

Congratulations, Universe, you win (again) (as always)

So, in 8 days I'll be running a marathon (because I'm crazy) (and like torture) (and am really just a show off).

Since the start of 2010, I have been 150% more dedicated to my training than I was in 2009. Which is awesome pants, if you ask me (and, by reading my blog, you did in fact, ask me). Of course, 26.2 miles is a long freaking way and anything can go wrong anywhere along there. Trust me, I know.

So, I've been trying to get good solid runs in and good strength training, etc. I'm feeling strong, confident (but not overly so--I'm still scared to death!) and good. Which had made me just that much more exicted about running in general. Which is the point, right? Right.

Until Wednesday night.

When I got hit with mystery illness 2010. (it's actually the same thing that haunted me in 2009, but, it's now 2010, so....)

And a cold.

I spent the entire day in bed yesterday (and there was nothing good on TV. I can only watch curling for so long--why I have missed the ski jumping events is a mystery) except for the 20 minutes that I thought it would be a good idea to go for a run in my new Brooks tech tee. Because obviously, I need to try it out. (obviously)

Lesson? Do not attempt running whilst hopped up on DayQuil, pain meds and the like. It's not a fun experience. Even if your pace was super speedy, you'll be too sick and generally out of it to enjoy the euphoria.

(but the tech tee totally rocked)

So, I didn't get my miles for the week and I'm still sick.

Oh well.... Excuse to eat too much and gain even more weight? Yes.

(I swear I'm thisclose to swallowing a tapeworm a la Kelly on The Office) (not really cause that's ick) (maybe I do the Emily Blunt from The Devil Wears Prada: "Well, I don't eat anything and then when I feel like I'm going to pass out, I eat a cube of cheese") (I'm lactose intolerant) (sure)

In which I accidentally join another sorority

Let me explain, in high school I didn't even know what a sorority was (I mean, I did, but, well, whatever). No one I knew was Greek, I had no idea. Had noooo desire to be Greek. I was more of a "can't we all be friends" type (read: closet hippie). Plus, I was really scared of the idea of hazing.

Enter college. A college in the South(ish). A fancy snotty people college. OMG, OMG, OMG, I must be in a sorority. OMG, OMG, OMG. Must look cute every single day. Must make "friends" (since you weren't allowed to actually be friends) with every single sorority girl I see. OMG! I would have jumped off the Brooklyn bridge into a sea of fire if that's what these people wanted me to do. No joke.

And my roommate's cousin was a member of (enter most popular sorority of your choice here) and we were sooooo going to be pledge sisters together and I was already friends with a girl on my rowing team who was also in said sorority and OMG the girl I was with at the meet and greet is from California too (shocking, I know). Soooo meant to be.

Fast forward three months later, my mom died, I missed rush, had to be in a sorority sooo badly that I did spring extended bidding and I think we can all agree that was a mistake. Hated sorority life like you would not believe (although, I did meet my best most amazing friend thanks to it, hi love!).

So, at the end of the day, I'm not a sorority girl. Just not meant to be a group setting like that (also, why I'm scared to death of joining Junior League and my co-workers are driving me batty to join). Just not for me. And honestly, I'm a teensy bit jealous of people that had awesome sorority experiences and are still close with their sisters--I wish I'd had that. But, anyways.

Fast forward several years and I'm a married lady living in a respectable neighborhood with an optional HOA and everything. And I want to get to know my neighbors and have playdates with their kids (you know, when we get around to procreating and all) and bake cookies and the whole nine. I'm such a grown up. And there's even a women's club! Score! I'll get to meet people.

And then because I'm a commitment phobe, I never go to the meetings (even though they have my $50) and I never go to anything because I'm scared of everything and everyone and I never go. And I know exactly .05% of my neighbors (and refer to them by names such as 'angry man' and 'cute old guy with the dogs').

So, when I get an e-mail asking for co-hostesses for the holiday party I think "this is perfect! I can cook! I can party! I'll meet a lot of people at once and wow them with my awesome baking skills, and I'll be all friendly and co-hostessing". So I sign up. Because obviousy this is perfect.

And then there's a set menu. And because I don't check my e-mail 500 times a day or have a Crackberry, all the items I've ever even heard of on the menu are taken and I have to cook pickled shrimp.

It's like being initiated, I'm guessing. I passed, because everyone ate the shrimp (and my kitchen still smells like vinegar) and the main hostess is holding my Santa platter hostage which I can only assume is some sort of weird hazing ritual in which I must drive by everyone's house wearing only jeans and a bra and then the platter will be returned. Or something like that.

When I show up to the party, I'm wearing a black dress, black boots and fancy Anthro necklace--I think I look pretty darn fancy. I am wrong. I am a shlep. It's totally like rush. I'm getting the up and down from the other hostesses and I'm pretty sure I failed that test--considering my wedding ring is not 5.8 carats, I'm not blonde and I don't frequent a tanning salon.

Yet, I still think I'm "in" because everyone hugged me and told me they were glad to meet me at the end of the night (which was 11:35PM, by the way)--but maybe that was just the booze talking?

I'm still not sure what I've gotten myself into, but, hey, at least I know a few of the women who live in the neighborhood.

I guess I'll have to wait and see if I ever get that platter back....

Table for Pity, Party of One

So, today, I was having a bit of a pity party for myself (shocking, I know)--which is a little weird because I was on such a high yesterday after my freaking awesome finish (in which I cried) of the White Rock half yesterday (more on that later).

But, today, I just wasn't feelin' it. I am sick. Got sick Saturday night. Still sick right now. Was depressed about work (can I be a stay at home mom already, please?!?!?!). Was depressed about $$ (we are um, running low, and I'm pretty sure I just spent what we did have on XMas gifts for our family...One of which I did not receive a confirmation e-mail for which has spawned a crazy person the likes of which you've never seen).

So, I threw myself a little pity party and cried myself all the way to the mall.

Where I somehow ended up at my happy place (Anthropologie).

And somehow walked out of there with a new top and scarf (I'm the scarf lady, according to my boss). And, because it was only fair that I have a little luck, the entire purchase cost me nothing. Thanks to my Anthro bday coupon and a giftcard from the in laws.

Now, I can't wait for it to be next week so I can where this fun ensemble (don't think I can pull the look off in the office--boo!). Workday clothes are getting so monotonous.

Retail therapy. Works every time....Maybe this is why we're running low on funds....?

(for the record, I'm not trying to be a whiney, I actually found it odd that I was in such a fowl mood because usually a good run or race puts my grumpiness in check for a few days. And, as y'all know, sometimes I'm just Grinchy around the holidays...Y'all know I just tell it like it is. Pity parties and all.)

It's the most wonderful time of the year

And this has little to do with Christmas.

My birthday + Thanksgiving (which means a few days off work) + People Magazine's Sexiest Man Alive = I'm a very happy little girl.

Call me crazy (no, it's OK, you can), but, during college I would pick up this issue at the DFW airport and stash it in my carryon only to ecstatically pull it out when I got home and my momma was waiting at the airport for me (OK, so, that only happened once since she died 1 month later, but, whatever). Every year, we would read this issue together. No fail. I haven't not purchased it in probably 10 years or so.

Earlier this month, the sis in law and I put our top picks out there: Ryan Reynolds, Christian Bale, Hugh Jackman (you know my never dying love for Hugh), etc, etc and were eager to see who would win.

And then last night, she said that the cover had been leaked it that it was that terrible creepy vampire man (I'm sorry, I'm not into Twilight at all--and creepy vampire man kind of grosses me out--the only vampire I like is Brad Pitt circa Interview With). And we vowed we would not purchase said magazine if he was the winner (gag)--thus breaking a 10 year streak.

So, like a little child on Christmas morning, I was thrilled, thrilled I tell you when one of my all time favorite celebrity crushes was named this year's Sexiest Man Alive. Again.

Le sigh....

Admittedly, I'm shallow sometimes and I just can't help it (even if that creepy vampire did manage to get his mug on the cover--grr).

If you'll excuse me, I have some reading to do.....

Sausages! Sausages! Sausages!

First of all, thank you everyone for such wonderful and supportive comments on my post yesterday. I didn't know a birthday was going to hit me so hard--but, alas, it did, and I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the support, the advice, the encouragement--it truly means so much to me. Thank you. Really, really, thank you. I am so grateful for all of you.

In other news...Yesterday afternoon, I noticed that my feet were oddly puffy. My right ankle sometimes gets swollen after a long run, but, this was both feet, and not just the ankle, but, the entire foot--as in, the buckle on my shoes was on the loosest clasp, and there was still an indentation. Weirdest thing ever.

The swelling got worse and when I got home from class last night, I had full on cankles.

This morning, I went for a hilly 4 mile run (awesome!) and let me tell you, running with sausage feet is freaking hard! Every step made them feel like they would explode and they felt like they weighed 500 pounds. Only to come home, take a shower and get dressed, realizing that my entire lower body is puffy! My legs are totally 100% swollen. Thighs, calves, feet--the whole nine. I've never experienced anything like this ever in my life. And it's painful! I have sausage legs. My poor little leggies and feet are just stuffed into my skin like sad little (er, big?) sausages.

I have no idea. I'm drinking my normal amount of water (which is a lot), haven't been pounding the Diet Coke (I know, shocking), haven't eaten anything out of the ordinary--no new meds or anything. Weirdest thing.Ever!

Has anyone ever had this happen before? Any ideas on what I can do? I couldn't even shove my feet into my largest flat shoes today!

I mean, it is hilarious, because, of course, I would just randomly balloon up, but, um, seriously, not cool.

I look like the damn Michelin Man. No joke.

And no, there will be no pictures, you'll just have to take my word for it. My lower half? Sausages.

I don't even like sausages.

Sad little plea: help. :)

Unprepared

(warning! warning! warning! possible honesty and emotional overshare. warning!)

So, as y'all know, it's birthday month (which, um, yeah, I haven't done crap to celebrate said birthday month other than my awesome half marathon--hmph, not cool), and soon enough, it will be marathon week (next week!) and then birthday week (um, the week after that). And then because I really am a child, birthday week shall extend into early December, 'cause that's when I can have my actual fun birthday dinner that will not take place at some shanty in Middle of Nowhere, Arizona. Just sayin'.

But, to this end, I'm feeling wildly unprepared for my upcoming birthday. And before I launch into my little schpeel here, let me clarify, that I am fully aware that I am young and have years ahead of me (hopefully)--fully aware. K. Thanks.

It's my 25th. On the 25th. Which, in and of itself is a big deal as far as I'm concerned.

However, I have fallen short on the list of things I wanted to do by my 25th. Yes, I've done a lot of things (changed legislation! bought a house! graduated college! started graduate classes!)--so, I'm not belittling that at all, but, I must admit that I was and still am completely unprepared for the emotions that would flood me as I reflect on my upcoming birthday.

2009 has been tough. We lost our sweet sheltie girl, Hanna. We lost dear family friends. I've battled a mystery illness which keeps me up most nights and has caused me to wage a never ending battle with my weight (considering I'd managed to lose 10 lbs from January-June--then August just ruined it all) which of course has led to depression--and well, we don't really need to go into that.... Yeah, 2009? Hard. We're fortunate enough that I have a job, but, my husband, who graduated top of his class, with honors, with awesome work experience, still does not. Thus, all the fun things we wanted to do to our home, we cannot, as we cannot afford them. We aren't any closer to having children than we were one year ago, which makes me sad, and I haven't made it to Italy yet. This is the real crime.

I look at so many of my friends who have gorgeous houses, graduate degrees, good jobs--and are my age, or just a smidge older and it can be hard. Who am I kidding, it is hard. There, I said it. And yes, it can be hard to be grateful for what I do have, because I know that really, it is a lot. I am a very blessed little lady. No denying that. And I am grateful.

Problem is, each year, I set goals (this problem also arises around December 31st), and I achieve none of them. Doesn't fail. No matter how simple (paint upstairs bath, anyone? How hard is that, really? I can promise you it won't be done by December 31st, 2009 as I said I would last year), I cannot accomplish them for whatever reason. Sure, things happen, money goes elsewhere, things pop up, life happens. Sure. But, why, oh why is it so hard for me to stick to things (like writing my book, for example)? I have no idea.

But, I do know this: I know that on Saturday, I completed yet another 20(.3) mile run. I ran my little heart out for 20 miles (well, the first 6 sucked, but, I found an Oreo at our water stop and I kid you not, it was like angels sang down from heaven and everything after that totally kicked butt. Note to self, have husband post up at mile 6 and 20 with Oreos). I finished strong, with my last mile being my fastest (was I just dying to be finished? I'll never know for sure). I felt freaking awesome (I can walk today!).

I know that God blessed with me with a body that can run 20 miles. And that will run 26.2 miles in less than two weeks (gulp). I know that one year ago, the thought of running 6 miles made me want to crawl under a rock. I know that I've gained some weight, my butt is freaking huge, my legs are chubby and my love handles are out of control, but, I can run 20 miles. I don't really know what all this means, but, I'm really trying to make myself feel better since I was told by a certain work colleague that I'd love marathon training because I'd be in the best shape of my life. I beg to differ, because I looked way better in May, but, whatevs (slightly bitter, what can I say, at least I'm honest).

I know that for once, I will have completed a goal. A milestone. A finish.

It's not what I set out to do on my 24th birthday, or even on December 31, 2008, but, it's what I set out to do and I'm doing it.

I don't think I've ever been so giddily excited over anything. Seriously. This is right up there with my wedding day (which was really a blur, and I'd like to watch the video of it sometime because I remember exactly .5% of the entire day).

I can't believe that almost another year has gone by. I can't believe that I haven't achieved nearly anything that I wanted to by this time, nor can I believe that in 13 days, I will run a marathon. I can't believe that I have completed two half marathons, two 15ks, and two 10k races this year. Never in a million years.

Sometimes things don't work out.

But, sometimes they do.

Sometimes, you find yourself in the most unexpected places.

Like in a pair of hot pink running shoes (which are sadly going to be laid to rest on November 23rd, 2009 as they have served their purpose--and considering I recently lost one of two remaining toenails, am pretty sure I should have retired them in October--oh well).

You just never know.

Currently...

I look like I have an intravenous drug problem. (i.e., massive bruise and welt on my inside arm)

Word to phlebotomists across the globe: when someone tells you they have little veins that are hard to find--freaking take their word for it. Don't just go a-lookin'.

It never works.

It's a damn good thing I have nothing on my agenda that will necessitate me moving my arm in a bicep curl like motion. Because, damn, it hurts.

Good news? I'm still workin' on that part....

Happy Friday!

I am my mother's child

It's August.

It's 100 degrees out.

What am I doing to pass the day o' data entry away?

Listening to Christmas music.

True story.

"It's the most wonderful time of the year"

Next thing you know I'll be shopping for gifts and wrapping presents.

In September.

Clearly, the apple does not fall far.

My mother's exact words after a shopping trip mid July "Just act surprised".

Now, where's my hot chocolate?!

The day has come

I must confess something.

Something I never thought would happen.

And I've been debating on if I should tell or not.



But, I'm all about sharing and what not, so, I'll tell you.







Ready?

Are you sure?







I've become a flats person!

(I know, I can't believe I just typed that either!)
(looks longingly at her pretty pink heels in the sidebar)


Need proof?

I currently own these

And these

Oh, and you've seen these before (and I have them in black too)

(and yes, 98% of my shoes are from Target--I spend a lot of time walking outside for work and go through shoes like tic tacs, thus, I go for cheap when it comes to most of my office shoes)

So yes, I'm now a flats wearin' fool. Which is tragic, because I'm barely 5'. Awesome.

But with a bum leg and icky feet, prancing around in my favorite heels just wasn't cutting it.

I have worn heels exactly 0 times in the last week. It's a strange little world remembering how short I really am.

But, I think it's helping my leg (um, either that or the awesome insoles I started using last week--judge away--they are sooo flippin' comfy).

So, until further notice, I'll be a lot shorter.

And probably a bit sadder (because my heaven's if a great heel doesn't make me just giddy).

Now, go put on your favorite heels and live it up for me. Deal?

In my next life

I want to come back as a model for Anthropologie. Or a person who gets free/discounted clothes and goods from them.

Becase clearly, I need this shirt.

As in, I seriously might die if I don't get it.

(and normally, I would make a deal with the husband that if I successfully complete my two upcoming half marathons that I get to buy it, but, at this point, just running successfully is glory enough....And he thinks I shouldn't be running anyway, so this type of bribery really won't work. Especailly since I think my SIL is moving in with us soon, which means more people to feed on my sad little paycheck)

Anyone have $100 they want to donate to the SP needs cute clothes charity drive?

Why I hate "lunching"

Only, I don't. One of my greatest loves in life is going out to lunch during my workday with friends, family, or co-workers. It's a great way to break up the day and get away from the office.

But, there are two problems:

1. I always eat too much/don't plan ahead and eat the wrong things. i.e., chips in my salad yesterday were not corn tortilla. Awesome.

2. I am a klutz. I have a gift for spilling things and or running into things. Wearing white is just not smart for me. You'd think that I'd talk about how I spill food on my clean white shirts (which I do. And often), but, that's not the problem. Problem is, I've had waiters spill salad dressing on my clean white shirts two times in the past 3 weeks.

And my Shout Pen thingy is just not cutting it.

White shirt fail. Boo!
Damn it.

I've been thinking

(I know, it scares me too)

I've been thinking about my childhood best friend a lot lately. It all started at my husband's graduation--I don't even know how we got on the topic, but, before I knew it, we were almost home from the 1 hour drive and I was in tears.

I miss her terribly.

I miss her everyday. I miss her whenever I watch What About Bob. I miss her when I eat Starburst, I miss her when I see a guinea pig. I miss her when I see or think about horses. I miss her when I look at my photos. I miss her all the time.

I miss her when I miss my mom.

I miss her when I think about my wedding and how she wasn't there. I miss her when I think of my first apartment and how she died the day I moved in.

I miss her like she's part of me. And she was. She was my soul sister. She is my soul sister.

Clearly, we're still a ways away from having children, and my husband isn't too fond of her name (Sara), but, I desperately want to name a daughter after her (her actual name, Sara Katherine would be perfect considering Katherine is a family name on both sides for me). So, I'm still pushing for 'Sara' to be incorporated into our future daughter's name somehow (current name obsession for my unborn children: Sara Sonora). So, that's my current and future capturing her in my life plan--hopefully.

But, I feel like lately, I really need her. I really miss her. Without her and my mom, there's no one to really share in the little things with--and I miss that. It freaking sucks.

I want to honor her in some way, but am not coming up with anything. Something for charity? She died of premature birth complications (we were both preemies--something we loved about each other) that tormented her until she finally passed at age 24. She'd be 28 if she were still alive today. Something for March of Dimes?

Should I put her name on all on race tee shirts and run for her? Should I get a necklace with her monogram? (don't anyone suggest a tattoo--it's not happening).

I just, I feel like she needs to be more a part of me outwardly than she has been. She was my very best friend. I'll never forget her reaction at "our" mom's funeral--that's family. She cried and screamed and sobbed with me.

At least one of my most cherished memories if the three of us decorating the Christmas tree when I got home from college. We were watching What About Bob and drinking hot chocolate and eating spritz cookies. It was wonderful.

Even in the dark times, I remember that. I remember us.

Any thoughts on how to honor and remember my dear Sara?

PS. Sorry for the Debbie Downer, it's just been weighing on me heavily lately and I had to get it out. Shallow and shopping SP will be back tomorrow, don't you worry.

Pain & Pride

Thank y'all so much for all the supportive and kind comments over the last few weeks as it seems every post I've written has been somewhat of a Debbie Downer (and I loathe Debbie Downers, fyi). So, thank you so much, I really appreciate everything love that I have so many fantastic blog friends. Hugs to you all.

It's been a rough couple of weeks, for sure. I've resigned myself to the fact that yes, SP, you have actually gained weight--and not just a little. Which was heartbreaking and emotional last week, but, yesterday, as the scale told me "Ha! Looks like those months of hard work are shot!". I said "Ha! You're wrong. I got off track, but, watch me get back on it even quicker." It's a pride thing--I was upset (and in tears) last week because I had been sick, which in turn made me overeat because I just needed some energy--I was upset because I'd not been paying attention.

Which is the stupidest thing ever to be upset and in tears about--I mean really. At the end of the day I'm running more than I ever have in my life, I'm still eating healthy good food (albeit, too much), I'm cooking more meals at home and saving $$. I mean really? To cry over 5 lbs? Not cool. So, I'm still insanely bitter about the whole thing, but, whatever, new challenge, SP can handle it.

Last night as I left the gym, i could barely walk because my feet hurt so bad. It was a pivotal moment in my race training. I was feeling sorry for myself and my God my feet were killing me--blisters on all my toes, ouch! But, as I sat at home last night I thought "this is nothing--people do so much more than me. I can do this." And I can.

And just to prove to that scale who's the boss, I managed to crank out 5 miles this AM. (I'm seriously considering wearing sandals the rest of the day, but, whatevs)

While it's been rough, and emotional, and fattening, I've learned a lot about myself in the last few weeks.

A) I don't handle massive amounts of stress well--i.e., I get sick B) I may have developed a slight wheat allergy (shoot me now)--and have learned that food allergies can begin when you're losing weight and changing your eating habits--could explain why I became lactose intolerant when I lost 25lbs 6 years ago. Awesome. C) Yoga is my bestest friend ever. Three days in a row of yoga last week really helped me re-gain myself. D) Online shopping is my second bestest friend ever. I got my shirts last night and I love them--although annoyed that one is 100% cotton (which it said 95% cotton, 5% lycra online)--which means it will shrink. Boo!

So, as I sit here, typing away with my icky feet and chubby hips, I find comfort in my sweet om charm necklace that I gifted myself last week--I can overcome.

Thanks for hangin' with me through it kids, I loves ya!

P.S Race report coming tomorrow and long overdue giveaway next week!

P.P.S. I casually mentioned the marathon to my dad and joked that they should fly out and watch. Guess who bought plane tickets? My dad. Guess why can't back out of the marathon now? Me. Holy yikes.

XOXO

It's Wednesday!!!